


Houdini

by WillowClemson



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Masturbation, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Tentacle Rape, Tentacle Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:40:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21781084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowClemson/pseuds/WillowClemson
Summary: You're tired of work. You fall asleep and dream of sex. Your new pet is too smart for your own good and decides to help you with your problems.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 63





	Houdini

"So intelligent" they said. "Amazing entertainment" they said. This stupid octopus is dumb as rocks and they convinced me to pay over 1000€ for him. I don't even think it was entirely legal. The only trick I've seen him do is climb out of his damn tank to the damn floor where he fucking could die, not too intelligent. Stupid Pacific striped...whatever. I don't care what kind he is anymore. Sometimes I wish the damn thing would just die. But then I feel bad for that. It isn't his fault he was sold to a lonely bitch who has to work all day. He's probably as moody as I am. I give him plenty of food and toys, a den and everything, but he still just crawls around the edges of the tank. I thought maybe it was too small, but after I got a bigger one he just did the same thing. He's learned how to undo duct tape, move books, and break water filters to escape onto my carpet. I'm worried to leave him alone anymore, so I moved him to my bedroom. Sometimes he just stares at me while I work with his bulbous fish eyes. Today, I break down and stop working.  
"What do you want, man?" He just sticks all his suckers to the glass and keeps looking at me. "Right. You don't speak person." I get up, stretch, and wash my hands. Then, I pull the top screen back and put my fingers in the water. He moves on them with his wrist-thick tentacles, wriggling in between them and around my hand with his suckers. But then he starts snaking his tentacles out and pulling himself up. I push him back down in the water forcefully and quickly but carefully remove my hand from his grip and slide the top back over. "Nope. Not today, man." He flashes dark to light over and over. "Yeah, whatever. I'm mad at you too, Houdini." His name was originally Richard, but Houdini stuck. He sulks back to the bottom, resuming his ritual of padding around the edge of the tank. I try to cheer him up with a few yummies and a new puzzle, but he figures it out far too quickly, and I can't give him any more treats tonight. He won't be hungry for breakfast. So I give up entertaining him and wash my hands.  
...  
When I finish my work, I flop into bed and am unpleasantly surprised by the cardboard box I've just rolled onto. Ouch. But then I remember; this is my new toy. I rip open the package and uncover the beautifully crafted Icicle's no. 24. It really does look just like a tentacle. I look over at Houdini and he's staring at me again.  
"What? It's just a toy. Don't let it go to your head. I'm only horny for inanimate tentacles." I clean it off thoroughly in the bathroom sink and hurry back to bed with it. Usually, I'd put it in the dishwasher, but it's been a rough day and I just couldn't wait. I pull off my panties and get wanking. God, does this thing work. So full, so much texture. I'm forced to touch myself, the extra pleasure too great an allure. Caressing my breasts, my neck, sliding around my belly and thighs, squeezing my ass, my nipples, my clit. I come within minutes. It's been too long since I've had a good fuck. I suck my juices off the no. 24, go to the bathroom, and clean everything up, my face still splotchy red with pleasure and sweat.  
When I finish and settle into bed, Houdini is still staring me down. I smile. "Creep." I roll over and turn out the light.  
...  
I'm in one of the conference rooms at the office and Linda Cummings, my boss, comes in.  
"Your two o'clock is here to see you, ma'am. Shall I send him in for you?" She's my assistant. I don't know how I know that, but I do.  
"Yes, thank you, Linda." It feels good to say her first name so casually and dismiss her like she does me.  
Linda leaves and a young, Asian looking fellow saunters in. He's not who I envisioned when I read his proposals; he's younger, he's hotter. The door to the bedroom shuts and we're alone.   
"So we have considered this proposal many times, and as you know it is something that will greatly benefit both of us." He rambles on and progressively gets closer to me, until we're nearly nose to nose. "So, shall we begin our joint venture?" I nod and his hands slide around my waist, cold and clammy, but a strange mix of calming and exciting nonetheless. He pulls the covers off of my legs and slips my t-shirt up as his hands caress my breasts. He unbuttons his trousers to reveal a nicely sized cock. He gently pushes my legs apart and it's then I notice he has more than two hands. This is normal. More hands. More touching. Keep going. His arms are around my waist, and crawling their way to my neck, and gripping my ass, and between my legs. He slides his fingers down my brush and in between the lips of my cunt, already dripping with promise. His fingers are so long and slender, it seems like they're growing inside me. Oh, duh. Silly me, his extra hands are actually just tentacles. I knew that. This is normal. I feel him crawl into every crevice of me, borrowing lube from my cunt to glide into my ass, slide down my throat. Involuntary. The sucking was involuntary, like breathing, only breathing him. His lips around my clit send electricity up my belly, and I mew and yelp and cry out as he caresses and soothes every sensitive part of me with all eight extremities. I feel like I'm in a Laurell K. Hamilton scene as he positions his cock, more firm than the tentacles and longer, it seems, as he thrusts, filling me, just like the No. 24, only bigger, even more textured. I'm lost. Thoughts are failing me and I'm just floating, no, writhing in his arms. Suckers, ahh, oh, there are suckers on his cock. Flicking and pinching and nipping around inside me, constantly coming, squirt after squirt. He just won't stop. Won't stop. Don't stop. Glass breaking. Wait a minute. That was glass breaking. What the hell?   
I wake up and sit up in bed, my face red as a tomato in the mirror, but I grow pale instantly as I see the rest of my reflection.  
"Huudnnni!" I struggle to shout past the tentacle in my throat. This fucking octopus is fucking me in my fucking sleep! No, no, no! I panic, gagging and trying to bite down, trying to push him off, out of me, but his thick tentacles are too strong, wrapped tight around my waist and legs, my arms already half entangled. He easily entwines them as well, securing my wrists and continuing his probing, engorged around me, inside me. I'm pinned to him, I can move on the bed, but there's nothing I can do to separate myself from Houdini. His tentacles fuck me, despite my muscles rebelling, suckers attached to my clit, my nipples, stuck to my neck, fighting with my tongue, gently pinching, sucking, all over me. I can feel my body slowly losing the will to struggle, the orgasmic rush of sensation overcoming my attachment to reason. With each thrust they pinch and suck a little harder. I try, I try so hard not to come, but I do, still writhing, still whimpering, still feeling. I cry out as I feel my body seize around every tentacle in every hole. White hot, ears ringing, pained pleasure. Then nothing.  
...  
I wake up. I'm in bed. I look in the mirror, no tentacles, no marks. Houdini is in his tank, playing with one of his toys. A dream.   
"It was just a dream." I sigh and fling my legs over the edge of the bed, relieved. I hop to the floor, my left foot greeted with a needle sharp sliver of biting pain. What the hell?! I fall back down to my bed, instinctively grabbing my foot and pulling it up to see. I slide the paperthin sliver out of my wound, breath hissing through my teeth. I quickly wash and bandage the wound, then take a closer look at the sliver.  
Broken glass.  
I look over and Houdini is staring at me through the thigh hole in my panties, his new favorite toy. For some reason, I can't help but smile. 'Intelligent and amazingly entertaining.' That was for sure.   
"Well, Houdini," I pick up the Icicles No. 24 and shake my head, "that was way better than any dildo will ever be."


End file.
